Jack Not Jack
by Su Freund
Summary: While recovering from his amputation, a bored and isolated Daniel Jackson receives a surprising visitor. WARNING - SPOILERS FOR CONTINUUM! Missing scene. AU.


Jack Not Jack

Title: Jack Not Jack

Category: AU. Friendship (Jack/Daniel). Missing scene from Continuum.

Content Warnings: Mild language

Pairings: None

Season: After S10. Set during Continuum.

Spoilers: Continuum, and anything prior to that is possible

Summary: While recovering from his amputation, a bored and isolated Daniel Jackson receives a surprising visitor

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Copyright © 2008 Su Freund

Story Length: 7805 words

Author's Notes:

1. This story is set during the events of the movie Continuum. I have assumed Daniel Jackson spent quite a while in an Air Force Base infirmary while recovering from his amputation, and during his interrogation. I have also assumed the interrogations of Daniel, Sam and Mitchell continued for a long period before the authorities decided to free them from their confinement. These assumptions seem both reasonable and very likely to me.

2. Many thanks are due to Lynette (Flatkatsi) who beta read this story for me. I hope it works better because of my subsequent revisions, but any remaining errors are down to me.

3. I dedicate this story to the memory of Don S Davis, who played our beloved General Hammond so superbly for so many years. Like in the movie, he makes a guest appearance here and I hope it is worthy of his memory. God Speed, Don!

**Jack Not Jack**

Long stays in an infirmary can be so boring. Long waits for treatments, long hours of rest and physical therapy. Boring ad infinitum. Boring with a capital B!

And Daniel Jackson was unable to see the only friends he had in this whole rotten timeline. That had to be about the worst thing to happen to a guy in a strange world, confined in an infirmary alone with no friendly visitors, no one to confide in, to share his fears and dreams with. His only company was unfamiliar nurses and doctors and a whole gamut of other staff, including his ever-present guards. It was tedious – and very lonely. He yearned for decent company, longed to banter with his friends.

Like him, he guessed the authorities kept them isolated and under lock and key with regular probings and proddings and endless interrogatations over hours, days and weeks. Daniel had lost track of the number of times he had recounted the same story. Over and over and over again. Monotonous. He was sure no one believed him. They probably did not believe Sam or Mitchell either.

All three of them would doubtless be committed as insane by the time they were through - tied up in straight jackets in padded cells, drugged and left to the tender mercies of a Mackenzie like figure, perhaps even the actual version of Mackenzie in this timeline. That did not bear thinking about. Daniel had been there before and it sure was not a pleasant way to spend one's days and nights. Worse than this place, that's for sure.

Admittedly, theirs was an incredible story. Especially for people who had never encountered a Stargate, let alone seriously considered time travel outside of a theory or a science fiction story.

When they left him to his own devices, Daniel did a whole heap of reading. The base library was pitiful, but at least its books helped keep him occupied. Still mind-numbing and not what he would have chosen to read, but something.

The base chaplain's semi-regular visits became a highlight of his stay. At least he could have some vague kind of intellectual conversation occasionally, discuss theology and alternative religions, subjects Daniel knew something about. The chaplain was someone to reach out to and find some commonality with during these desolate times.

And they were without doubt desolate and desperate times. Frankly, they were dismal. Stuck in a timeline so different from your own reality and helpless to do anything about it; knowing your life had changed forever. The loss of his leg paled by comparison.

At least he was alive, although Daniel was not yet certain it would be a life worth living.

Sam would have been way better than the chaplain to talk to on an intellectual level. At least they had a common history. Even Mitchell would have been preferable with his ol' grandma stories and that darned offbeat sense of humor that sometimes reminded Daniel of Jack.

He missed his friends and the lack of their companionship broke his heart.

Jack's absence was worst of all in many ways. Daniel had whiled away many a happy hour recovering from injury with Jack at his side, but the colonel of this reality did not even know him. In fact, the O'Neill of this reality probably hated him and certainly believed all three members of SG-1 were "freaks". Everyone did.

If he had said nothing to this O'Neill about the death of his son, would things have turned out differently? Maybe… but life is full of maybes and you shouldn't dwell, right?

The Jack of his timeline might have said that. His Jack would have been telling him right now to buck up and get it together. Daniel could imagine his friend ordering him to get a life, just like he used to with Sam.

But the Jack of his timeline was dead. The sudden memory of that unthinkable reality jolted him. Daniel had almost forgotten. Well, not so much forgotten, but he had allowed the fact to remain buried as much as possible, pretending his own timeline was still out there somewhere with Jack merrily living his life. Not so, and never likely to be so because none of them were allowed or able to fix what Ba'al had done.

Killed Jack. Killed their lives, their history, their reality – everything they had all known and loved, and everyone.

They had not been able to mourn Jack's loss either, or not together, anyway. There simply had not been time, which was ironic in the circumstances given all the meddling with time itself and all. He figured Sam must be suffering as much as he was over that loss, if not more so. Jack was their friend. No, way more than just a friend.

Mitchell was luckier, perhaps. He probably wasn't agonizing like them over Jack's death. Maybe he grieved on an intellectual level but not deeply gut wrenchingly in his heart like Sam and him. Mitchell would be mourning other losses. But they all were, weren't they? The loss of life as they knew it and everyone they had ever known.

The three of them – Jack, Sam, Daniel - had known each other for the longest time. They were friends, colleagues, close as close could be. Okay, so Jack had been up in DC, but he had always been there for them no matter the distance that separated them. So Daniel missed and mourned for Jack at a fundamental level. So fundamental that it was deep and abiding, seeping into his very being even when he tried his best to bury that death.

If they ever attempted to fix this timeline, ever got that opportunity, which Daniel doubted, the authorities would whisk them away for sure, if not worse. He suspected that if they ever liberated the three of them, these people would be watching and keeping them in check. No contact, he was betting; no trying to save a world these people were content to live in.

Daniel figured he could not blame these folks for wanting to stop them. This was their timeline and the notion of creating a different reality was never likely to sit right with them. That broke his heart too.

In fact, the whole darned situation was one long painful kick in the gut, filled with bitter irony.

How could he ever live a life here? How could he adjust? The loss of his leg was bad enough but he could learn to live with that because he had to. It certainly beat freezing to death on the Arctic ice. He still had his faculties - his brain. Even if they might never allow him to make good use of it, it was still there.

Yeah, he had that, which was better than nothing. They still had not found a way to stop a man thinking even if they could stop him acting on his thoughts.

The other adjustments would be way worse and more difficult - a life devoid of his work and friends. Some of the best friends a man could ever expect to make in a lifetime and he would probably have to live the rest of his without them.

Daniel realized Sam and Mitchell were both in the same boat. He wondered what they were doing now, how they were feeling. Like shit probably, just like him.

If only they could be in that boat together, life in this reality might be bearable. As it was, not so much. This and the fact his good friend Jack was dead and the version in this reality probably hated him.

They would never be friends. That was quite some loss to come to terms with. Way more depressing and harder than the loss of a limb, right?

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The sounds of an infirmary are unique, but Daniel Jackson was isolated from any other patients – incarcerated. He had missed the noises he was familiar with back in the SGC infirmary: the beeping of equipment; the clip-clopping of heels; the tread of boots; the whispered utterances; the quiet chuckles of amusement that made a bad day better.

It took him a while to get used to the silence between medical examinations, interrogations and visits from the chaplain. But he did and, more recently, he had been able to sleep better, or even doze through the discomforting hush.

He was dozing now, but woke on sensing a change in the atmosphere. It was subtle, but there - someone else in the room. Daniel could hear shallow breathing and then someone coughed softly. Turning his head toward the sound, he opened his eyes. Stunningly, heart-stoppingly, Jack was there.

"Jack?" he exclaimed with surprise, eyes widening, immediately alert.

For the briefest of moments he imagined this was his Jack, thought he was back in the SGC infirmary, and his pulse soared. Daniel, however, quickly realized his error. His visitor was the living breathing Jack of this timeline. Not his Jack, but it was still Jack. Or at least, he bore his old friend's face. Daniel hadn't seen much evidence of his Jack during their brief acquaintance on the submarine. It was good to see that face, though - right out of the blue. A bone fide shocker.

The man was watching him intently, eyes boring into him disconcertingly, and he said nothing when Daniel opened his. Except for his stunned exclamation, Daniel didn't speak either, staring back and hoping his glare was equally disturbing to this Jack. The man had come to him and must want something, so let him do all the hard work.

Jack not Jack fidgeted, looking distinctly ill at ease. His manner reminded him so much of the real thing that it took Daniel's breath away. The younger man struggled to show nothing but impassivity on his face and wondered which of them would be the first to break the deadlock.

Jack caved first and Daniel felt the elation of a kind of victory when it came.

"So you and I are friends where… um… when…"

Last time Daniel had seen him the man had been angry, probably rightly so in the circumstances. How could any of them have expected him to comprehend their radically different reality? Informing him his son had died eleven years earlier had done nothing to endear them to him. Quite the opposite and Daniel could understand why.

Now, Jack's tone was subdued, the man obviously perplexed. Daniel almost smiled at his visible discomfort. Not knowing what to say or how to say it. Not understanding any of what SG-1 had told him on the submarine. Although if he was anything like the real Jack, he probably understood more than he let on, or the potential anyway. His old friend was like that.

Jack not Jack sighed dramatically, waving his arm in the air in an equally theatrical manner. "… Whatever! We're friends wherever the hell you come from, right?"

Daniel nodded, maintaining his verbal silence. Let the man say it, whatever it was he had come here to say.

"See, I find that hard to figure," Jack continued after a long, thoughtful pause, his hands gesticulating in a Jack like manner. "You and I don't seem like naturals for the best friends of the year award."

Daniel grimaced. "I never said we were best friends. I said I'm the closest thing to a best friend you have back where I come from."

"My life there is that bad?" Jack replied with a wry "real" Jack like smile and Daniel chuckled but said nothing. "I'm not your best friend then?" His fingers inserted quote marks around the words best friend as he spoke. Daniel's heart wrenched at the memory of a different man, a different reality. His reality.

"I guess maybe you are," he responded with a small quirk of a grin, "however much I might hate to admit it. Sure, we're wholly incongruous - incompatible on the face of it. Somehow, it… well, it just seems to work, despite our many fundamental differences. We rub along. We've been through a lot together and that means something… Jack."

It felt strange while also not strange to address this man in that familiar manner. At the back of his mind, Daniel wondered if he should refer to him as Colonel O'Neill. This did not seem right though, even while Jack also seemed wrong. It was hard to conceive of him as anything else.

The bottom line was that Daniel did not belong here. This was not his world, his timeline or his friend. He had never really fit into his own world so how could he expect to fit into this one?

More than anyone, his Jack had helped him try adapting to Earth after Abydos, the only place Daniel had ever truly felt at home – like he had been born to live that life. Short lived, but oh so sweet while it lasted.

Yes, Jack had helped. Sure, they disagreed about almost everything, but he loved Jack for trying to make him feel at home, making him welcome. And he understood why the man had loved him right back, in his own way of course. Close and true friends despite everything.

Jack had saved his life back on Earth just as he had saved Jack's on Abydos. It wasn't just a matter of finding the way back home. Daniel knew his experience on Abydos had given Jack something to live for during the bleakest moments of his life after his son, Charlie, died. His hunger for life returned and a different man returned to Earth from Abydos than the one who had left it on that first off-world mission.

Both of them had been different. Both of them had learned much from each other, always did. Always checked and balanced each other. This was why they worked. Not so much because of what they had in common, which was little, but because of what they did not. Commonality came later.

Daniel could never get that with this Jack. His son still lived and his life was almost totally dissimilar. Good for this Jack, maybe, and Daniel was kind of happy for him. Nevertheless, it pained Daniel to know he could never attain that manner of friendship here - friendship born from adversity, from saving each other's lives, from being there for one and other.

Briefly, Daniel wondered if this Jack was still with Sara, his wife. He imagined so. Jack was a stickler, loyal to the end unless a friend betrayed his friendship, love or trust. He probably still loved her and she would love him right back. Charlie was alive so his death would never have torn them apart.

He wanted to ask, but did not have the courage. Perhaps he would learn more without asking. He hoped so because, as ever, Daniel was curious. This is one of the traits that made him the man he was, a deep and abiding, ever thirsty curiosity.

While Daniel pondered this, Jack remained quietly ruminating. Probably with a head filled with questions but unable to articulate them. All this was such personal stuff and Jack did not do personal stuff well. Daniel would get occasional glimmers of it with his Jack, but only so much would peek out before it became quashed firmly again. He imagined this Jack was the same.

"My son…" Jack not Jack started after the lengthy pause, appearing more self-conscious than ever.

"I thought you didn't want to hear that."

A faint smile appeared on Jack's lips and he looked down at his hands. Daniel knew if he had a table in front of him, he would probably be tapping a diverting rhythm or doodling with a pen. Right now, he kneaded his fingers together and visions of yo-yos popped into Daniel's head. His heart stuttered at the image.

Then, abruptly Jack looked up and met Daniel's eyes. "I'm not sure what I want," he croaked. "What you told me… it's… well, I keep thinking about it." He shrugged as if it meant nothing but Daniel could see this admission appear to defeat Jack momentarily. He glimpsed bleakness in the furrowed lines of Jack's face and his dark eyes. It seemed the man had been thinking about it way too much.

"I didn't know your life was so different," he replied by way of apology. "I didn't intend to hurt you or for what I said to haunt you."

"Well it has!" Jack snapped bitterly. "It has!"

For a second, Jack's face contorted in to an expression of frustrated distress and then reverted to blank and unreadable. Daniel supposed he should have guessed this would happen, that he might get this visit. He knew his Jack and apparently, this version was not so different. He was a deep and thoughtful person under the tough, no-nonsense veneer. A man who tried to avoid over thinking and complicating things because it might lead to madness or pain. Sometimes his Jack felt too deeply and certainly way more than he pretended.

"I'm sorry," Daniel said in a low voice. Heartfelt and he thought Jack could probably sense that although he said nothing. Silence hung between the two men like a physical barrier for long moments before Jack coughed awkwardly and spoke again.

"Shot himself with my gun, huh?"

Daniel nodded, peering at the man to try and gauge his mood. One could not always tell with Jack, and he saw no reason to suppose this version was any different to his own. On this occasion, his expression was unfathomable, but the man was avoiding Daniel's gaze and this told him something.

"An accident. You blamed yourself," Daniel said, thinking he needed to add more.

"Oh, really?" His tone was chock full of sarcasm and Daniel realized it was an idiotic thing to say to the man who was Charlie's father. Of course, he would blame himself. This Jack would know that only too well.

O'Neill made no further comment but instead asked another question. "And then?"

"What happened next you mean? Not sure I should tell you. I probably made a mistake mentioning Charlie in the first place. I thought it would make you believe us. I thought it had probably happened here too."

He had been wrong of course, based his assumptions on a previous experience in an alternative reality. This, however, was not a parallel universe as such, not reached through the quantum mirror. This was an alternative timeline wrought by the conniving and smart-assed Ba'al. Daniel was not sure he totally understood the difference, but there was one. Sam would probably get it.

"So it would make it worse to tell me more? Think it will change history or something?" Jack's tone was sardonic, holding a tinge of animosity.

"How the hell do I know? That's Sam's area of expertise."

"She's smart, huh?"

"Sharp as a tack. But your Sam Carter must have been smart too. An astronaut. It was what my Sam wanted to be before the Stargate Program made it kind of passe."

Jack smiled. "I guess it must have too. Travelling to other planets through a wormhole. Still sounds too incredible to me."

"I guess it does. Like a science fiction movie or something."

"Right. I never did get into those things," he commented sneeringly.

"You always preferred the reality."

Jack nodded. Feet firmly on the ground, that was his style. He wondered about that other Jack, though, the kind of life he led. Travelling to other planets… fighting an alien enemy… That must really be something. If it was true.

"So, um, you said your Sam. Does that mean…?" he started saying instead, leaving the question hanging. His characteristic accompanying gestures seemed to speak the words that failed him.

Daniel would never have guessed it, but Jack was kind of feeling sorry for him. No, he didn't know him. They weren't the best friends Jackson talked about. But he was all alone in this place that was a new world to him. Separated from his friends. Separated from his lover, maybe? That would be very tough. O'Neill got the reasoning behind it, but that would be the worst. He imagined if this was him, what he might feel. Lousy he bet.

"Me and Sam? No!" Daniel said emphatically. Then he smirked, forgetting that he probably should remain silent about Jack's life in his own reality. "That was always more likely to be you two."

O'Neill was visibly shocked. "Me? Me and her? But I'm married! And very happily thank you very much."

"Sure, in this timeline." It slipped out without him meaning it too and he eyed Jack. The man looked stunned, and crestfallen.

"So, me and Sara…?" Again, he did not complete the query. He already knew the answer. His sigh was heavily laden with sadness. "Because of Charlie, I suppose."

It was a statement rather than a question so Daniel said nothing. He'd probably blurted out too much already. At least he had inadvertently got an answer to one of his own questions. Jack still married to Sara. Charlie still alive. Happy. His own Jack would have envied this alternate one.

"But it's not me and my Sara," Jack said thoughtfully. "It's not my Charlie. It's not real so it doesn't matter."

"It's real to me! My Jack's dead!" Daniel cried out heatedly.

O'Neill reeled back at this revelation and gasped, the word "Oh!" expelling from his lips involuntarily, Daniel thought.

"If we could have changed the timeline, he'd be alive now." Daniel's tone was more conciliatory, no anger in it now. He felt it but to express it seemed wrong. He had just told this man an alternative version of him was dead. That could not be easy. Again, he recalled that time long ago in a different reality. One where the Goa'uld invaded Earth and destroyed the SGC. He had looked himself up and discovered he was dead there. The fact was hard to take.

"I'd rather it was Charlie who was alive," Jack whispered quietly, a pitch that Daniel barely heard.

Just like Jack, thought Daniel. Why had this man come here? What did it mean? Were the authorities starting to believe them or was it purely a personal quest? Daniel did not imagine the Air Force would allow just any old person to waltz in to visit him, so private motivations did not seem to sit right. There was a security camera in the room, so this conversation probably was not private. They must be watching.

"I get that," he responded. "He's your son. Any man would sacrifice himself for his son. You, well, you're the self-sacrificing type."

Jack stared at him steadily for a few moments. "I am?"

"Well aren't you? Wouldn't you give it all up to save someone else? My Jack would have."

The other man snorted derisively. "I'd rather save someone else and stay alive."

"So would he, but he'd give his life if he had to. He came close to it many times. Maybe you aren't that different."

Jack sighed, understanding the point Daniel was making very well. "Maybe, but I'm not him am I?"

Daniel sighed in resignation at that all too true statement. "Look, I can see why it's hard to believe me. It all sounds nuts, and anyway you don't want to believe. I understand that. My Jack wouldn't want to either. He would envy you this life you have. A life with his son. He'd give anything for that. You really think I could make something like that up? That I would want to?" Jack looked at him sharply at that statement but rapidly averted his eyes again, shuffling awkwardly in his chair.

"If my Jack hadn't seen so many incredible things over the years, he certainly would not want to believe in alternative timelines and wormholes that take you to other planets either," Daniel continued. "He's suspicious of everything and everyone and I suppose that comes with the territory. You are special ops, right?"

Jack glanced at him again, an eyebrow quirking upward in surprise. He did not answer the question and Daniel did not really expect him to, but what he'd just said seemed to have given the man pause for thought. Once again, Daniel wondered why he was here.

"So why don't you tell me the whole story?" Jack not Jack suggested.

"All eleven years of it?" the startled Daniel retorted. At last, they were getting down to it, he guessed, the purpose of this visit.

"I won't live that long," Jack replied humorously, eliciting a small smile from the other man. "Edited highlights will do."

"I told you, I'm not sure I should."

"Got something else to keep you occupied?"

Daniel knew he had a point and as this was not his timeline, did it really matter what he said? He wished he could discuss the notion with Sam, but he was bored and in a perverse kind of way enjoying the company. He did not want to let go of this Jack not Jack, did not wish for this exchange to end too quickly. Telling him about it would keep him here for longer, Daniel thought.

This man was not the angry Jack O'Neill he had first encountered on that submarine but much more akin to his friend. He'd had time to cool off and think. This was someone he could converse with. Despite that, he still demurred.

"Can't you just read the reports of my various interrogations? They all say the same thing because it's the truth. But then you never did like reading reports much did you, Jack?"

The two men's eyes met and they eyeballed each other, both trying to get the measure of the other. Daniel had the advantage. He already knew Jack, or at least an alternative version. He believed he could handle this Jack if he was anything like his own. Press the right buttons. 

"No, reports bore the hell out of me," Jack said after a while, a faint smirk on his lips. If Daniel could have read his mind, he would have known he was thinking the stranger seemed to know him too well not to know him. All his references to his character so far had been spot on. Only his life was different. "What interests me are the things that don't appear in reports."

Daniel nodded and pondered that. "Okay," he finally agreed. "Don't suppose there's any chance of pizza and cold beers do you?" Jack not Jack grinned but shook his head. Then Daniel took in a deep breath and started. It was quite some story.

While Jack listened to a version of his life he had not lived, Daniel began to work out what the man wanted. He would listen and nod or shake his head, saying little, sometimes prompting with a question, sometimes appearing reflective, and very occasionally responding in a way that gave his thoughts and feelings away. Not often, though. Just like his Jack, this alternative one did not say or reveal much.

The way Jack led him through his story was interesting, though. He veered toward the personal, toward clues about his life and character. Sure, he took some kind of interest in the work, but this was obviously not his prime purpose for being here. It seemed he was trying to figure out whether Daniel really did know him - if this alternative history he spoke of might be the truth after all rather than the ravings of a lunatic.

Daniel figured if he got under the man's skin, if he could reflect Jack O'Neill back at him convincingly, the man might actually believe him, however reluctant he was to do so.

The recounting of those edited highlights lasted quite a while. Daniel cherry picked, choosing his revelations well once he began to think he understood what Jack not Jack was after. Targeting his potted history to the watchful audience he assumed they both had.

What he knew of Jack's life outside of the SGC. Charlie. Sara. The cabin in Minnesota. Fishing. Chess. Poker. His friends and background. Even his love of The Simpsons and Family Guy. Both these shows existed in this reality too, Daniel knew, and he could see from Jack's reaction that he too loved their mockery.

What he had experienced of Jack's life at the SGC. His leadership and keen strategic skills. The deliberately well hidden but acute intelligence. His slightly offbeat attitudes toward authority and orders. The irreverent and irrepressible humor. Friendship and comradeship. Loyalty and betrayal. Impatience and patience. His tendency toward sarcastic snarkiness. The O'Neillisms. His unique and sometimes surprising personal principles. The unassuming heroism. Anything he believed would reflect Jack's personality back at him.

Although buoyed up by regular doses of caffeine, Daniel was close to exhausted by the time they finished. The experience, however, had been strangely cathartic.

Jack remained pensive for a long time before speaking. "That's one hell of a story. If it's true I guess I can see why we might be friends in different circumstances."

"Do you think it's true?" Daniel was hoping he would say yes and eagerly waited his response. He so wished for someone to believe him, and if that person was this version of Jack it would make him feel he could convince anyone.

"Not for me to say, but I do know it's not my life you're talking about."

The response disappointed Daniel slightly, although what his visitor said was true. "But does the friend I describe sound like you?" He pressed, still hopeful of some kind of recognition.

Jack seemed to ponder the question as if reluctant to answer but in the end, he nodded. "Sounds a lot like me," he confirmed, which encouraged Daniel more than he might have anticipated. "But I'm no hero. That's different."

"My Jack would say that too. He never believed he was a hero. He just did what he did. What he considered to be his job."

Jack smiled enigmatically. Without realizing it, Daniel had just said one thing that made the rest seem real. The icing on the cake. Instead of commenting, however, Jack took a different tack.

"So, I was a general, huh?" It was one of the things Daniel had told him that made him doubt. Sitting behind a desk in Washington DC did not sound like him. Promotion to that kind of position didn't seem close to possible either. "Kinda cool - or not!"

The wavering movement of his hand as he said those words indicated he could not decide whether this was a good or a bad thing. Daniel chuckled. How like his Jack that was.

"Yeah, after years of sticking it to the man you finally became the man," he responded with a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes at the memory of that long past conversation. "Jack said something like that to me once. To us, his team."

He could see from the colonel's responsive reaction, the twitch of a smile, that these words had a distinct ring of truth about them. As if he found the phrasing familiar and it was something he might say.

"He liked the pay check and the perks," Daniel continued. "But the promotion and job were never something he truly wanted or believed he would get. He didn't much like giving up the action. He hated seeing us go through the gate when he wasn't going with us, and that he was not there to protect our backs. But he did it because it was the best way he could serve his country and the SGC. Very Jack."

Jack not Jack nodded his head as if he understood but once again did not comment, changing the drift of their conversation. "You miss him," he said. The statement took Daniel aback.

"Sure. Like a thorn in the side you can never get out!" he replied good-humouredly. "Yes, I miss him. I miss all my friends. I never had many in the first place and Jack was one of the best anyone could ever have."

Daniel thought it ironic that he should be telling this stranger something he had never got around to saying to his Jack. He wished he had told him while the man still lived, but the real Jack would have found it intensely awkward and he probably would have too. Briefly, he pictured the scenario in his head and it was a discomforting image.

"But I'm not him, am I?" retorted Jack not Jack.

"No."

"I wouldn't want to be."

Daniel understood why but felt the need to be slightly defensive about his dead friend. "He did okay."

"Not that okay. He's dead isn't he? No Sara, no Charlie. Can't have been very happy. Better off dead." His tenor was a little acerbic and he looked up to meet Daniel's eyes. "This world is better."

"Not for me. And this world won't stay better for anyone. Not when they come."

"Get off with that!" Jack exclaimed waving a dismissive hand.

"Okay. Have it your way. You'll see. And I think he was fairly happy, actually, by the way," he added snarkily at the end.

Jack failed to respond. He did not see any reason to argue the point and found it hard to comprehend that this other version of him could ever have been happy without Sara and Charlie. He did not want to.

"Dead, huh? That's kind of weird," he said after a long silence.

"It's all kind of weird."

Jack chuckled at this. "Yep. That it is."

Daniel paused for a short time before speaking again, not certain if he should voice what he intended to. "I'm kind of surprised you came," he said in the end. "Jack never talks about this kind of stuff."

His friend's doppelganger smiled. "Neither do I."

When Daniel thought about it, he realized they hadn't talked. Not really. Daniel had prattled while Jack had said little. Just like the real thing when it came to the up close and personal. His Jack. Guarded. Learning a lot without giving too much away.

"No, I guess you don't," he commented after a while. There had been moments, though. Many moments that reminded Daniel of his friend. Perhaps perversely, this was some small comfort in his loneliness. A feeling of reassurance provided by a man he did not really know. By a stranger.

Earlier Daniel had believed he could press the right buttons with this man. Now, it seemed the reverse was true. Jack was the one pressing the buttons. Once he considered it, Daniel realized this was just like his Jack too. He always had been a sneaky bastard - wily and way more perceptive and devious than he might wish to appear.

There were unanswered questions Daniel wished he could ask, but this Jack probably wouldn't answer them any more than his version would have in similar circumstances. He would evade, so was there any point?

After all, this was not his friend. Not by a very long way indeed. Scratch the surface and he was similar, but the surface – his life – was very different. He could never be the same and they would never be friends. The thought saddened him and his previous elation dissipated.

The reassurance prompted by their exchange was only temporary, he realized. Reflection made Daniel begin to believe it might have been preferable if this man had never come here. It hurt too much, was too difficult. Jack not Jack was no substitute for the real thing. The similarities served as a poignant reminder of the friend he had lost and the differences as evidence of his hopelessness.

"I'm done in," he said. "I think I need to rest."

His visitor seemed relieved and rose from his chair readily. "Sure." He glanced at his watch. "Time I was going anyway."

"Wish I could read your report of this conversation," Daniel said, and Jack looked surprised.

"I'm not here in any official capacity," he claimed. "Just wanted to know, is all."

Daniel's expression was disbelieving. "Right," he retorted in a tone filled with doubt. "You swear?"

Jack looked semi-regretful and shrugged. "Nope. Guess I can't really do that." He glanced at the room's camera, shrugging again and scowling directly into its lens. The action confirmed Daniel's thoughts about the visit and he breathed a mournful inward sigh.

"Have a good life, Jack," Daniel said as the colonel rapped his knuckles on the door to get out.

"You too," he replied. Then he was gone, leaving the solitary Daniel feeling even more isolated than he had been before his unexpected visitor arrived.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

O'Neill knocked and heard the word "enter" before opening the door. A quick scan of the room revealed the occupants as strangers, although he recognized General George Hammond, one of the President's advisers. Closing the door behind him, he stood smartly to attention.

"At ease, colonel," Hammond ordered in a slow Texan drawl.

"Yes, sir," O'Neill replied, relaxing a little but still military like alert.

"Why don't you sit?"

A table stood between O'Neill and the room's occupants and he started to feel like this might be an interrogation. Three serious looking men, one in a general's uniform and the others in smart suits, all lined up ready to grill him. He wondered how bad the roasting would be.

On the other hand, they had ordered him to go in there, or someone had. He was not at all certain he could have faced all that without those orders. The whole thing freaked him out. Not that you could tell by looking at him, but he was still in shock.

It had been downright bizarre listening to someone talking about a mirror of himself. A different life, maybe, but still the same man from everything O'Neill had been able to glean. This Daniel Jackson guy could not possibly know him. They were strangers. So he had to know the other version. The resemblances were too uncanny.

The life that other O'Neill had led was so entirely unlike his own. Incomprehensible and mind-blowingly far-fetched. Working at this SGC place sounded exciting. The kind of thing he could really have gotten stuck into and relished. If not for the fact that the other Jack had lost both his wife and son, this version of him might have envied the man.

All of which, of course, meant he believed what Jackson said to be true, however reluctantly. The other O'Neill had existed. That other timeline was real. Jackson really did seem to know him, and know him quite well for someone who let very few people know him.

The man seemed quite sane too. Not that the colonel was an expert or anything, but Jackson was a credible person in his eyes. A bit too geeky for his tastes, maybe, but so not the freak he had initially imagined.

It was these undeniable facts that clinched it for the colonel rather than a whole raft of science fiction tall stories. If their alternative timeline visitor was able to describe Jack O'Neill to Jack O'Neill in such a convincing manner then the rest surely had to be true.

Why would anybody lie so preposterously anyway? Sure, they had their fair share of crackpots and lunatics in this world. People who lie, or convince themselves that outlandish fakery is the truth. In his opinion, however, Jackson was not one of them. Those tall stories were not so tall, it seemed. Literally astounding.

He wondered what these three men would think of his opinion. They wanted to hear it or he would not be here. Why his views mattered a damn he was not entirely sure but it seemed they might. His CO had explained why but he had found that explanation faintly absurd. These people had professionals for interrogation. They did not need him.

O'Neill might have preferred to stand but sat as ordered. One did not disobey the orders of the great General Hammond. It was an honor to be in the same room with the guy but O'Neill was determined not to feel intimidated by him just because of his reputation and prominence. He was just a man - just another general.

Once seated, he met the gaze of that general unflinchingly and waited for him to speak. This, after all, was the man in charge here. Of this, O'Neill was convinced. What Hammond thought counted.

"General Waverly tells me you are an astute man, Colonel O'Neill," Hammond said, seemingly satisfied with what he saw after the two men had eyeballed each other for a while.

Waverley was O'Neill's commanding officer and the two men, commander and subordinate, held a mutual respect for each other. The colonel did not, however, know that the two generals were old friends who had served together back in the year dot. What Waverley said about O'Neill meant something to Hammond.

"Sir," he replied, features set into an expression that gave nothing away.

Hammond continued. "I was reluctant to drag you into this, colonel, but I read your report of your original encounter with these people. You called them freaks. Nice turn of phrase by the way." He threw O'Neill a sardonic half smile before continuing. "I like a bit of cynicism in my officers. It makes me feel much safer going home to my bed at night. You understand?"

"Yes, I think I do, general. I don't like my six covered by men who are too easily duped either, sir."

Hammond's small smile broadened at that comment and O'Neill relaxed a little more. This man might be his kind of general, he thought.

"This thing is so outside of our experience it's in another universe," Hammond said. "We need a different perspective. These people seem to know you, or think they do, particularly this Doctor Jackson. I wanted to know how he would react to you, what he would say. I wanted something more personal than we got from previous interrogations. Someone he could relate to. Someone with good judgment I can trust. That would be you."

Hammond's apparent faith in him pleased O'Neill. He still found the explanation for his presence ridiculous though, even if it confirmed what Waverly had told him. This stuff was way out of his league, he thought, but then he supposed it was way out of anyone's league.

"Sir," he said again.

"You don't say much do you, son?"

"Only when I have to, general, though I have my moments." The two men exchanged faint smiles.

"So, what do you think?" the general asked bluntly.

The other two men just sat there impassively, virtually unmoving. O'Neill decided to ignore them and concentrate on the main man. Pausing for a moment, he wondered what the general wanted to hear. He could only say it as he saw it, he supposed. If Hammond thought he was a whack job too, so be it.

"I can't say I like it much, sir, but I believe him. I think he's genuine. Or at least he believes it with quite some conviction."

O'Neill felt the canny eyes of the general drilling into him. "Tell us why you believe him, colonel," Hammond said with an emphasis on the word you.

Pausing to consider for a few moments before he responded, eventually he said, "That's not real easy to explain, sir. The whole story is way out there." He gestured with a wave of his hand. "But gut instinct. Experience. His manner and tone. The fact that he seems to know one Jack O'Neill quite well even if it isn't me. The stuff he said about me rings true. The personality he described. His eyes held truth in them, general."

"That's it?" Hammond waited his response while meeting his eyes. He decided that he liked this man. His kind of officer. The general knew he could appear to be stiff and formal, seem like he had a straight rod sticking right up his elevated posterior. In truth, however, he was not adverse to out of the ordinary or tinges of insubordination from officers he respected, those who were exceptionally good at what they did. He knew from his trusted friend Waverly that this man was probably one of them.

The colonel studied his superior right back for a while before replying. "In a very small nutshell, sir, yes. I haven't got much else to go on but my gut."

"I can think of worse ways to make a judgment, son," Hammond said kindly, his eyes twinkling with what appeared to be amused appreciation. This was something that endeared the man to O'Neill further.

Then the general at last drew the other two men into the exchange. "Any questions, gentlemen?" he asked them, and the anticipated grilling began. But O'Neill did not feel any undue pressure. In a very short space of time, some kind of empathy had developed between him and the man who really counted – General George Hammond. He didn't care about the others. He just answered in the best way he could.

Meanwhile Hammond simply sat back and listened, eyes frequently on O'Neill as he answered their questions. After a while, he tactfully closed the cross-examination down. He had heard enough.

"We're beginning to reach the same conclusion, colonel," he said. "It's so crazy it has to be true." Once again, amusement danced in his eyes. "But what makes you think I should trust your opinion?"

"Not a single thing, sir," O'Neill retorted quickly. "I didn't ask you to. You don't know me and I didn't ask to be here… general.

Hammond looked at him sharply, surprised by the man's slightly irreverent tone. "He sure was right about your disrespect for authority, wasn't he?"

"Sir." O'Neill thought better of rubbing further salt into that wound by elucidating on his monosyllabic response, and the two men eyed each other again. Once more, the general seemed satisfied with whatever it was he saw in those eyes.

"Is it also true what he said about you disliking reports?"

"Yes sir."

Hammond smiled wryly. "Well I want a full report about your conversation with Jackson on my desk by the end of tomorrow. And make it a good one."

"Yes sir."

O'Neill dithered for a few seconds before making a move to stand. He believed it was over but looked tentatively at the general to make sure.

"Dismissed, Colonel O'Neill," Hammond said in a blunt, barking tone.

"Yes, sir."

As he left he was thinking, 'Yeah, definitely my kind of general.'

Then he sauntered jauntily away and back to his life - real life in the real Jack's O'Neill's very real timeline. His wife and son were waiting.

The End


End file.
